Category Archives: life

Sink Deep, Rise Victorious after Loss

Grief is a universal experience. Every person will at some point in his or her life experience loss in some form. The only way to stay safe from loss is to never love, never care, never attach. The amount of grief we feel tends to correlate to the amount of love we have for a person, pet, job, situation, etc. As a counselor, I advise my clients to let themselves make space for grief and mourning rather than trying to be “fine” and shoving the grief down, drying up the tears, and getting on with life too quickly. In many cultures, mourning is a sacred time set aside for weeks so that a person is allowed to cry, wail, be surrounded by loved ones who do nothing other than “be” with them witnessing this pain and offering kindness (not advice). Being able to sink deeply into grief and truly mourn enables a person to rise more quickly in a state of emotional freedom in which they can feel joy again rather than numbness. Putting off mourning, trying “get it together” and act “fine” by going back to work and regular life duties too quickly only prolongs the healing process. Sometimes we try to “speed up” the grieving process because we are uncomfortable or even terrified of the sinking- the feeling out being out of control, of emotional pain so severe it is hard to breathe, the fear that if we sink we will never rise again. Other times we try to speed this process up because we are of a practical mindset and feel that there is no time to be “in the feels” and we have things to get done. However, grief always finds its way to force us to experience it one way or another. Sometimes, in maladaptive, negative ways such as drinking too much, workaholism, an affair, emotional numbing, disconnecting from loved ones, etc.

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Recently, I experienced a miscarriage. I had gotten my hopes up after an early ultrasound that showed a strong heartbeat and baby growing on target. My blood work was perfect. Everything was in line. Post-miscarriage pathology testing revealed no genetic abnormalities. I was left with no explanation other than simply it must have been God’s will for me not to have this baby right now. I know God loves me and isn’t a magic genie there to just give me all my wishes and make life peachy. I believe that God uses life as a testing ground to teach us the lessons we need to learn to evolve spiritually. Unpleasant experiences teach us things we would not learn from happy times. I can accept what happened and want to ask what I can learn from this rather than “why me”, but I still needed time to grieve as my body endured the physical and emotional suffering for days on end of the miscarriage process at home. For a moment, when I got the news that morning that the baby had no heartbeat and a miscarriage would start soon, I actually considered going into work that night and not telling anyone. I am that much of a workaholic. I had to use my counselor voice on myself and say “Jen that is nuts! Go home!” so I made the radical move of taking a full week and half off from work. Thankfully, I have PDO saved up and could do this. Just FYI, if anyone has to go through this horrible experience I would highly suggest you ask your doctor for pain pills, take the week off from work, get childcare for your kids, make sure you have plenty of Gatorade or electrolyte drinks in the house (hydration will keep you from dying or having to go to the hospital), prepare your mind with prayer and wise counsel (thank you Angela for helping me when I was in spiritual warfare by reminding me of the truth) and plan to settle in for a hellacious ride. I have given birth to two full-term babies with no pain meds at home with a midwife. This was worse simply because the pain was for absolutely nothing. There would be no baby at the end. There was no finish line, only empty arms. If you have never given birth naturally before, it is probably less emotionally and physically traumatic for you if you just schedule a D&C procedure at the hospital. Doing it naturally isn’t something for the faint of heart. It took 5 days for everything to be over.

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But, through this experience I realized this was the first time in my life that I have ALLOWED myself the chance to SINK DEEP and truly MOURN. I remember when one of my best friends was dying of cancer, I only took one day off from work. When he passed, I didn’t take off any time to mourn. I never told many people what I was going through. I just kept soldiering on. And I fell into a depression for about a year. No one knew because I just soldiered on being “productive” while feeling barely able to do so. But, this time I would not make this mistake. I would sink and I would rise. I cried until my eyes were almost swollen shut. I lived on the couch wrapped up in comfy blankets for a week. My church brought meals and my Mom kept my boys for a few of the worst days. My husband made sure I wasn’t passing out from blood loss and was eating. But then….it was over. As if I had “cried it out” and truly felt an emotional release of all the pain. I went back to work the next Monday feeling JOYFUL and grateful to be back to being able to help people and shocked at how good I felt. I wasn’t soldiering on depressed and dying inside. I was ALIVE. I had done my work. I had processed my grief because I allowed myself the time to truly “ugly mourn” the kind that many people avoid doing. It requires courage to sink deep. It requires knowing you will come back up eventually and for me, it requires knowing God is there with me in the sinking and in the rising. I feel closure and peace and it hasn’t even been a full month. Sure, I still have moments (usually when I’m alone driving in the car listening to music) that I feel pangs of sadness or “what if?” but they don’t take my breath away and I let them come and let them go like the ocean tide comes and goes. There is nothing to stuff down or soldier through. Only an allowing, a coming and knowing it will eventually go out too.

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Grief isn’t something we talk about much in our society and most of us just wing it the best we can. But those who hope in the LORD will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint. Isaiah 40:31  May you sink and then rise soaring on wings like eagles as the Lord renews your strength.

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Never Say Never…2016 Year of Surprises

2016 seemed to start of just fine, perhaps a bit more boring than usual. Things seemed on an even keel for once. My oldest son was making strides with his autism and the memories of constant struggles were slowly fading away as all of his (and my) hard work, time, and money over the years seemed to be FINALLY paying off in spades with consistently calm behavior, excellent self-expression and language, increasing social skills, no more potty accidents, and only good days at school. We were badassing autism, I would say. My youngest son had found relief through acupuncture from the tics that tormented and embarrassed him so badly at school due to his Tourette’s disorder. He had become BFFs with the neighbor boy. With our boys doing so much better and both of us working stable jobs, my husband and I were getting along better than ever before and having less heated disagreements over house chores, finances, and such. In early May, we went to a winery and I remember feeling caught by surprise and delight that I was falling back in love with my husband as we watched the sun set drinking glasses of Malbec on the patio. The overall stress level for our family seemed to be getting to that of what most people experience in their normal day to day lives. We had been living in financial and autism crisis mode for so long, I had forgotten what it felt like to just kind of coast through life some days. I posted cute pics of the kids or what new recipe I tried that night on Facebook. I went to yoga class regularly, folded laundry while watching Netflix, squeezed in the occasional coffee with a friend, date night with my husband and juggled the pressures of my jobs like a boss.

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Then, that equilibrium that I hoped would be my new normal slowly disappeared in a domino effect leaving me in utter brokenness, some of the darkest nights of the soul I have ever experienced, on my knees pleading to God, crying my eyes out in my car, calling doctors begging for help for my son, sitting by the lake talking myself out of wanting to swim away and never come back, counseling sessions, trips to multiple specialists for a new medical and mental health condition my son developed called PANDAS (“because moderate autism just isn’t enough is it God?” I lamented) which occurred after a bout of strep throat. He was also starting puberty. Crap. Humbled. Waving the white flag by calling the Marcus Autism Center in Atlanta crying and breaking down begging for someone to help my son and to help me. They did….with a psychiatry appointment. The last thing I ever wanted for my son. Never say never…..

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We had previously experienced so much miraculous success with naturopathic medicine and diet changes, public school special education programs, SonRise program and therapies (Occupational, Speech, Aquatic, and Hippotherapy), that I NEVER thought I would be one of “those parents” (sorry, I was just so ignorant) who put their kids on psych meds. As a mental health professional, I understood theoretically that there is a time and place for meds, but I observed that often parents tend to just jump the gun and go straight for meds rather than trying other treatments first and using meds as a last resort. I still advocate a conservative approach to medication. But, where I went wrong was assuming that because I am a mental health professional, well versed in natural treatments for various ailments as well, that my son would just NEVER need meds. WRONG. Last resort was exactly where we were at. At least I could feel confident I had exhausted all the options first I suppose.

PANDAS (see article) plus the onset of puberty made autism look like a cake walk. PANDAS made debilitating OCD symptoms, insomnia, and aggression appear. These tormented and took over my once sweet and docile son’s daily life and thus my life, my youngest son’s life, my husband’s life, and even affected our extended family and friendships. We had to stop going to church, taking him to the store, visiting friends, or going out to eat as a family. He just couldn’t handle noisy or crowded places anymore. We would spend hours trying to get him to finish up his rituals of closing doors certain ways or counting to 12 over and over. One night, I stayed up until 2am waiting for my son to stop repetitively banging the bathroom door to the count of 12 over and over again for hours. If we tried to get him to stop or even so much as breathed too loudly during these rituals, we would be violently attacked. My son is as tall and weighs as much as I do. I would have heated disagreements with my husband and my mother about medication. I was desperate and wanted to try it for my son, they were adamantly opposed. One day, one of my younger son’s friends came over to visit and made the mistake of “opening the door wrong” and my son went into a rage. When I tried to calmly de-escalate things (even thought I was on the verge of a panic attack) and make sure my younger son’s friend wasn’t attacked, my son started pulling me by my hair to the ground where we wrestled and I had to pin him down just to get him to let go. I am a trauma survivor and every time my son had one of these episodes I would end up going into the bathroom crying and barely able to breathe in the throws of a panic attack. I would have to drink a small glass of wine just to feel like I wasn’t going to hyperventilate. I was worried about one of us being seriously injured or that I would snap. I just wanted it to STOP.

I knew hospitalization was an option people would advise if I told them the truth, but I refused to put my son in a mental hospital where God knows what would happen to him. I saw news reports of children at local mental hospitals dying or being scalded in the bath. I would rather have my ass kicked all day long or let him kill me than risk inhumane and traumatic treatment for my baby. This is how so many parents feel and why so many families end up in tragic situations. We can’t trust the quality of the help and many can’t afford it if they could trust that care would be adequate. “I am a mental health professional, I will make my home my son’s treatment facility”, I decided. I just didn’t have prescribing privileges, so I needed a doctor’s help. That’s when I reached out to Marcus Autism Center. They normally have a 6-8 month wait list for psychiatry. After I told them the truth about what was happening and how I didn’t honestly know how much longer I could take it, they worked us into a cancellation spot 4 days after my call. I just had to hold on 4 days.

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The first medicine, Clonidine, helped so much with sleep. My son sleeping again helped me feel like I might make it after all even though the days continued to be torment. I found the place he raged the least was in the pool, so every day off was spent at the public pool for as long as we could stay. I still had to pull myself together and make it into work looking like my son hadn’t been attacking me and act as if nothing was wrong and do my job as a mental health professional. It doesn’t make good water cooler talk to discuss how your son kicks your ass if you breathe wrong when you work at a domestic violence victim’s services center. I needed to keep my job and my paycheck. Next, we added in Prozac supposedly for the OCD, which made my son violent and manic all of the time. Now, I had a child who was in an irritable mixed state mania plus it didn’t do crap for his OCD and PANDAS. I called the psychiatrist and told her I was stopping the Prozac. She wanted to try increasing his dose at first, but I said hell no as politely as possible (you HAVE to advocate and speak up to survive this thing as a parent) and she made an appt for us to come in the next day for another treatment plan. That’s when the decision was made to put my son on Risperdal. As a hippie, crunchy type mom this was a “big gun” antipsychotic med I did not trust and did not want to try. It was going to make my son diabetic and make him grow breasts, I feared. But, in utter desperation I honestly would have tried a tranquilizer dart for a bear at that point so I said “what the hell? I don’t even know anything anymore, screw everything I think I know” and got the prescription filled. I lied to my husband about it. Within just a few days my son was BACK. He kept getting better day by day, calmer, happier, engaging with us, not zombied out like I had feared. Biting himself less, attacking less, then I realized days had gone by and he hadn’t gotten physical with us, I hadn’t had to tell my younger son to lock himself in his room for safety. It was a MIRACLE. I finally told my husband and he cried because he finally had to admit that our baby did need meds and that they were helping. This isn’t what we had wanted to do. But never say never….

After he was stabilized mentally, I had the energy and strength to start going more hardcore into researching PANDAS and treatment options. I found a pediatrician in Atlanta (Dr. Rodbell) who takes our insurance and is PANDAS informed (many doctors aren’t) and we got on the wait list to see him. We started a treatment protocol of long-term antibiotics. This made me cringe because we avoid antibiotics in our crunchy natural household like the plague. Never say never….

Lots of driving back and forth to Atlanta ensued (about 1.5 hours away from our home). I somehow shuffled my work schedule around to be off some half days to take my son to his specialists and therapies myself and not lose hours. I proceeded to get quietly then loudly pissed off at my husband for working his 9-5 job, going about his business, and not really seeing all that was going on in my world at home in the “mental hospital” I ran while I wasn’t at work at a domestic violence crisis center and all of the stress that I felt was damn near killing me. I said I would never be “martyr mom” who did absolutely nothing for herself, but that’s exactly who I became during the Summer. There was no time for me to even think about what I might like or want to do. I didn’t go to yoga class for weeks. Those who know me know that I need my yoga just to stay sane and that I NEVER miss. I wasn’t sane. I looked like shit. People probably thought I was on drugs or worse. Nope. Hanging in there. Pulling up at the school in my PJs to drop the kids off late. I never imagined I would let myself go like that. I fought so hard to not let that happen, but it did. Never say never…

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I came out of the “Summer of Hell” now embracing the wonders of psychiatric medication (still as a last resort, but one I wish I had tried much sooner before things came to a crisis point when I barely had the will to live left). Never say never. Crunchy hippie natural mama meets hell yes for RisperDONE. That really is the drug name. I joke with my husband that I would gladly make a TV ad for Big Pharma smiling and saying in my sweetest Mary Poppins voice: “RisperDONE…for those times when your child’s aggression and violence make you want to say I’m just DONE son!”

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So, we were back on track with my son’s mental health. We resumed his therapies and he went back to school no longer headbutting the teacher and giving him a bloody nose now that his meds had him stabilized. Life seemed to level out….but that feeling of love for my husband that had surprised and delighted me when we had that winery date watching the sunset on the patio overlooking the vineyards had gone…somewhere…away….we had devolved over the course of that summer into being simply fellow survivors living in the same fresh hell.

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We tried to maintain connection the best we could. We never stopped talking or being physically intimate, if nothing else just for moments of free stress relief….but the connection, the love, the emotion just wasn’t in it. We were both like shell-shocked zombies stuck together by trauma bonding. I found us a marriage retreat for special needs parents and was so excited to go in October. This was going to fix everything, right? We just needed to chill out and really connect. Love would surprise us again…right? Sadly, my precious Grandma had to have emergency open heart surgery to fix several life-threatening issues a month before our retreat. My Mom is our only respite care provider by choice because I have high standards and trust issues. She is the only person I am confident can handle my boys as well as I can over long periods of time. She had to stay in the hospital with my Grandma for over a month. We had to cancel our trip. I cried and soldiered on. I was worried about my Grandma, but she came through and is doing well thank God! We registered for the December retreat instead. We went on the retreat, connected, had fun, laughed, had one spat about housework, but overall it was a fabulous time with new friends who “get” what living the special needs kiddos lifestyle is like. Love didn’t arrive to take us by surprise as it had done at the winery, but something else was happening. It felt cleansing, painful, but good. We did realize how much we still have in common and how much we enjoy each other’s company still after all these years.

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Then, one week after the retreat when I’m walking on cloud 9 all hopeful thinking things are starting to maybe look up for the first time, we had gone out for sushi, picked up the kids at my Moms, and just had to get them put down to bed in order to continue our date night 😉 So, I’m walking into the kitchen all la-ti-da in my pink PJs to get a drink of water after putting the kids to bed when I’m hit square in the face with the fact that my husband is not who he claims to be at all, not Mr. Self-Proclaimed feminist Christian who is sensitive to the fact that I spent years in therapy getting over anorexia and trauma. That every time he portrayed himself as “someone who doesn’t struggle with THAT” he was lying. Nope, he was all of a sudden in a flash of a second none of these things he had so frequently and vehemently claimed to be. He was cheating on me. He was some shady bastard I didn’t even know anymore. I won’t go into the gory details out of respect for him, but there was no mistaking the proof. In this age of technology, it can be confusing what even constitutes “cheating” anymore, but when a husband and wife discuss and agree upon THEIR boundaries, needs, and definitions then anyone who violates that while their wife is looking forward to them coming to bed and paying her some attention is cheating, plain and simple. Cheating your thirsty spouse out of your love, attention, and affection and putting your sexual energies into someone else is cheating. And it makes that person wonder why? Am I not good enough? Do I look bad? Should I start starving myself again and undo the 6 years of therapy that got me to the point of being able to say “I’m no longer anorexic at all and I am actually able to view myself as beautiful FINALLY”? When my husband would support my recovery and tell me he thought I was more beautiful not scary skinny, was he lying to me?

Regardless of how it went down, in that moment I felt everything I believed to be true crumple into a big ole pile of bullshit. I could barely stand. I yelled the first thought that raced through my mind, “Well I guess I’ll just go out and do whatever I damn well please with whoever I damn well please now (expletive) huh!” and ran to the bathroom to throw up. I threw up over and over again all night long. It was like labor. I felt my body, the one thing that has never betrayed me and has always tried to protect me, trying to empty me of whatever was causing me to feel so sick. My body, unlike my husband, was trying its damnedest to protect me and cleanse me of anything noxious or harmful to my health. My mind was whirling around. I always said that I was the type of woman who wouldn’t put up with certain types of bullshit. I won’t put up with disrespect in my own house after I bust my ass at work all day and take care of the kids anytime I’m not working. I won’t put up with cheating when I’ve offered the option of an open marriage. I just won’t abide a liar who claims the highest fidelity in order to coerce loyalty from me. I own my home with only my name on it. I make my own money. I pay my car note. I am by no means stuck, I thought. All bets were off. What was good for the gander might just be good for the goose…..So, I told my husband to get out of the house until I could stop raging and wanting to kill him and go seduce the nearest unmarried person. I alternated between crying so hard my body shook, being so angry I almost broke my hand punching a door, and dolling myself up and flirting a little with strangers out in public. I don’t regret it. I survived being punched in the gut and having the wind knocked out of me, emotionally speaking, so I think its only fair and normal I came up swinging rather than being sweet and doing all the “right” things.

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Finally, one night I was crying in bed alone, my hand outstretched onto my husband’s now vacant side of the bed. Cold crinkled sheets. I can do this. I can survive this. I’ve lost loved ones, lovers before. I know how to suffer. I know how to feel like you are going to die…and yet survive. I started praying. Blubbering crying and praying. God reminded me of everything wrong I had ever done to my husband. How I wouldn’t marry him for so many years because I didn’t know if I could be faithful or not, 99% certain I couldn’t be. How I had messed up just weeks before we said “I Do” due to my fears creating a self-fulfilling prophecy and how, even in spite of my Herculean efforts at recovery, I had grown overly confident that I no longer could be tempted, allowed myself to be in a compromising situation and almost slipped and cheated while I was newly married, catching myself at the last second before going through with it. I realized that my husband had forgiven me much, as had God. But ultimately, the realization that was the most profound was that even if my husband wanted to see other people, I still wanted him to come home and be my best friend. I wanted him to come home to my bed, my body, my table, my food, his children every night.Heartbreak.jpg

There is no rational explanation. Just LOVE. Not co-dependency, because this isn’t insecure need out of fear of being alone (the thought of being alone actually excited me and relieved me in many ways), this is simply what I WANT and what I choose right now at this juncture. His pros outweigh his cons. I forgive him and he has forgiven me. And to me, that is love. 14 years. Plenty of reasons to leave, but more to stay and try. Maybe we could work towards reconciliation, I thought. When we had a heart to heart, he finally acknowledged the truth and shared that in counseling he had realized that he honestly didn’t trust me and thought I was still cheating on him which made it easy for him to do what he did. Maybe, I thought, instead of signing a lease at an apartment using our kids Christmas presents money as a down payment, he could just come home and we could work through this by the grace of God somehow…..It’s been tough…and beautiful…and surprising in so many ways. Surprising like that day at the winery falling back in love over wine. Except this time, we are falling back in love over honest, heart-felt conversations rather than the buzz of wine. I’m still figuring it out and realizing I don’t have to figure it all out. I can just let it unfold. The boys are super happy to have Daddy home. So am I. One thing is sure…I will never say never again after this year’s humbling lessons. I will just continue to wing it…together with my sons, my husband, and you all my sweet friends and strangers 🙂

 

 

 

 

 

Bless Our Mess

My son’s occupational therapist shared with me something cute my 8-year-old shared with her at school. She said, “He said my house sure can be a mess sometimes, but its the best mess. Its my favorite place to be.” At first, I have to admit, I was mortified because I carry a little bit of secret shame about my free-spirited, “just trying to survive and stay sane as a working mom” housekeeping philosophy. But, then, I was struck with how profound my son’s statement really was. Our house, our family, ourselves sure can be messy, but messy can still be amazing. Messy can still be our favorite place to be. A big ole come as you are mess is actually quite comforting and endearing. You are always accepted and don’t have to clean up first and fit everything into a neat and tidy toy box. It’s the expectation of shiny, well-organized constant perfection that trips us up in so many ways, isn’t it? I honestly don’t want a constantly neat and tidy house. I want a sanitary house with clean dishes, the litter box scooped, enough clean clothes for the week and the trash taken off, but do I want floors with daily fresh vacuum lines and with toys neatly in their place or my son’s art supplies in perfect order at all times? No, I really don’t.

One of my favorite things about my Mom’s parenting style was that she was very relaxed when it came to her expectations of the house. She would rather let us relax, study, and play at home most days than to have a rigid chore chart schedule. There were times she asked for help or told us “alright that’s it, your room is a disaster its time to clean it up,” but overall there was always a sense of home being a place to rest, get schoolwork done, and to not have to be as tightly wound as the outside world expected. I want my kids to look back on their childhood the same way. That their home is the one place of constant refuge where they can kick back and relax, be messy, be themselves, but also a place where they can earn a dollar if they help Mama do the dishes.

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Of course, I’m not advocating never cleaning or letting your house be unsanitary, but I am all in favor of relaxing a bit and instead of shaming myself for my messy home, savoring the fact that this is my son’s favorite place and “the best mess.” My kids don’t care that my desk is overflowing with books and papers for the online class I teach. I’m thankful my youngest son’s room looks like a Lego explosion and he feels creative freedom and relaxation. I’m thankful my oldest son’s room is an explosion of stuffed animals and art supplies where he can shut the door and decompress after school. I’m thankful I can go to yoga or read a book instead of spending hours each day trying to get my home to look like a magazine. I do not enjoy cleaning at all because it is an exercise in futility and I don’t have the time to put any effort into futile pursuits my kids will just undo for me. Why spend an hour picking up Legos or hounding my son to do so when I could instead be playing Marvel versus Capcom with him or even just sitting by him on the couch reading a book, available if he wants to talk while he draws? He is just going to empty out the Lego boxes looking for the perfect Darth Vader helmet tomorrow anyway, so why bother? Ain’t nobody got time for that. I sure don’t. I work 3 jobs for goodness sake and take care of 2 boys, one of whom has special needs that take up any excess energy I might have. When you are just trying to survive as the parent of a child with special needs, you don’t have time to get neurotic about perfection. You start to accept and cherish the beautiful mess that is your life because your ideas about perfection were shattered the day you received that diagnosis.

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As I think and write, I realize that housekeeping tends to be a deeply personal issue for me and for probably most of us women. Men are pretty much off the hook because if someone comes over and the house is a wreck, no matter if the wife works just as many hours or not, somehow the spoken accolades or the passive-aggressive disapproval falls on her. Her only hobby  after working full-time should be cleaning and childcare right? That is the unspoken expectation so many of us feel. It is us women who frantically announce, “Ya’ll! Clean up NOW Grandpa is coming over in 2 hours!” as we bust out the mop, the vacuum, and the shovel for all of those toys simultaneously in a flurry of panic at the thought that our family member or friend is going to judge us harshly for slacking off and maybe playing with the kids or reading instead of non-stop cleaning.

Who do you allow into your home? I am very selective. I know which friends are my “safe friends” who I don’t have to clean up the house for if they want to swing by for coffee and these friends are the same ones I go to when something serious is going on in my life and I need to share my pain or my emotions without having them judged “a hot mess” or offering to “tidy up” my feelings for me either. There is something beautiful about accepting the messy parts of ourselves, our people and our homes. Let’s cut ourselves and each other some slack as we wing it through parenting, housekeeping, and realize we are all really a mess in one way or another. But we can find the love in our messiness. We don’t have to get it all in the toy box to be loved or enough.

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Sorry I Missed Your Call. I’m Busy Riding the Autism and OCD Parenting Roller Coaster.

When I was a little girl, my parents would take us to the county fair or to Six Flags over GA to ride roller coasters. I was always the type who would get on any ride or roller coaster not because I wasn’t terrified, but because I knew I wouldn’t die and that at the end I would be so exhilarated that I did it! Some of the rides were fun, but some I would just have to hold on tight and scream my lungs out to endure until the end. When you scream out “Stop the ride! Let me off!” no one hears you. They can’t stop the ride just because you want off or you think you are going to have a heart attack. No one cares. You can scream or cry all you want to, but it changes nothing. You just have to hang in there and endure. You have no idea when it will be over. It feels like forever. You can’t even really think straight to evaluate how far along in the track you are. You just hold on tight, scream, cry, pray, and try not to throw up. This is very similar to my experience as the parent of a child with autism who is going through the tween years and has recently developed OCD as well (because no, Lord, autism just wasn’t enough). It often seems as if just when I have caught my breath and think I’m gonna survive this thing just fine, I am thrown into another upside down loop de loop, tilt a whirl and I’m in danger of losing my lunch, my glasses, and looking pretty rough when I get off this thing. Thankfully, I get a chance to get off this roller coaster sometimes when my son is at school or at my mom’s when my husband and I have a date night, but even then it feels as if although I’m not actively riding it, I’m just standing in line, trying to settle my nerves taking deep breathes and waiting to get back on again.

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I love my son more than anything and we have beautiful, wonderful moments which are exhilarating like the moment when the roller coaster stops and you smile and laugh with glee because you did in fact survive this thing and the endorphins and adrenaline are pumping through your body. Woohoo! A sweet hug! Another milestone met! Another new word! Eye contact! Potty trained! He only turned the light switch on and off 11 times instead of the usual 12! But, watching him struggle so much in spite of all of the extra stuff I am doing and buying and trying….well it makes me want to scream “Ahhhh I  hate this ride! Someone get me off! I’m gonna puke again!” pretty often.

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ASD is a spectrum and presents in a lot of different ways for different kids and adults. You may have ASD yourself or have  a child who has ASD or OCD and it may feel like a walk in the park to you, I don’t know. All I know is my experience and my truth about how it feels to parent my particular child in my particular circumstances and it feels hard right now. Just when I think I’ve got a handle on things, here comes another loop I’m thrown for whether due to a new developmental stage, illness, finances, etc.

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I think people must assume that because I say  it is so hard, I’m just doing it wrong. I wish they could see how much time, money, energy, therapies, diets, supplements, now even medicine we are doing to try and help my son thrive and be happy day to day. I feel like I should be able to make this work somehow. I should be able to not look so frazzled or I should be able to stay in Mary Poppins mode and not ever raise my voice. I should just get up earlier to avoid looking disheveled and a mess at the morning drop off at school (nevermind I’ve been dealing with his sleep issues all night long and I work late two nights per week). I should pray (check, I pray almost constantly). I should work from home. He should take this supplement (yep, already taking it), we should try this diet (yep doing that), I should _______________ (not be writing about it?). I should change my perspective (yep in therapy myself trying to do that). There has to be something I could just fix and make this easier on myself. I wish there were. I spend hours each day researching how to make this better, how to be a better mom, how to accept this unusual life journey and find more joy in it, how to make my marriage survive this, how to help my other son cope, how to make extra money to fund my sons needs, etc. Although many of the things we have done for our son and for ourselves have helped tremendously, I am still working uphill just to get my son to the most basic level of functioning and to get my family to the most basic level of functioning. Even Pollyanna would admit that’s kind of hard.

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Each day is a roller coaster of stress and I am horrified at how I must appear from afar. This is not me. This is me just trying to survive. My son isn’t going to go into remission after his treatment. He isn’t going to be sick for a little while. This is a long-haul thing for us. A marathon, not a sprint. I feel like the main character from the movie “Bad Moms” who is just stressed to the max, except I don’t have the option of just telling everyone to take care of themselves for once, because my son can’t. So, I publicly apologize for seeming constantly scattered, self-centered, crazy, stressed out, no time for small talk, snappy with the front office staff at the school, not put together, too focused on my son’s ASD diagnosis, flaky, not a good friend, forgetful, not 100% on top of every little detail at work, not having the energy to invest into things that aren’t my business or I don’t care about anyway, frequently venting to my BFFs, always broke, not able to hang out much, bursting out in tears and saying “But I work 3 jobs and what we are doing now is already so hard!” when my son’s reading teacher asks me to do add extra homework, frequently not able to answer the phone, giving up on daily gym workouts, holding tight to my Saturday morning yoga time, not up for any kind of “fitness challenge” because my life is already a 365 challenge, or just distant and crabby in general. I apologize for being strangely open (oversharing) and also really defensive (pretty much not wanting to hang out with non-special needs parents much at all).

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This is my norm, this is my life. I am just trying to hold on tight, scream, and survive it without losing my lunch just like a kid riding a killer rollercoaster. I promise you that this has nothing to do with you, I really do like you a lot. I would love to be able to hang out with you more, to relate to your stories about your kids extracurriculars and how proud you are, to put more effort into my home businesses selling amazing things, to have more of a social life that is not online in nature, to laugh more, to volunteer more at church instead of crying through all the songs just to release all that stress, to be able to just throw my kids in the mix of all the other kids at church and go chit chat with the other moms rather than having to go sit next to my son and try to hold back my tears as I rub his back while he’s biting himself and rocking back and forth because the music is too loud and there are too many kids having too much fun in there.

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Maybe we all have our roller coasters, I don’t know what goes on behind the closed doors of your mind or home, but I do know that it really does help to just let it out and scream your head off sometimes when you need to, to hold on tight to the people you love, throw your hands up and laugh hysterically sometimes, breathe deeply, and remember that you won’t die even though you may feel like it on the loop de loops. We special needs parents will survive as we wing it together. If you need to talk to someone who “gets it”, call me. It will likely go to voicemail, but I will call you when I’m driving alone in the car. Reach out to Parent2Parent or a support group. You don’t have to ride the roller coasters alone, there are plenty of seats and we can hold hands and scream together as we go through the dips and curves.

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Loving Jesus Doesn’t Have To Be So Complicated…

 

So, I was lying in bed last night thinking about so many things. Feeling confused. Inadequate. That’s when I felt the love of Jesus come over me like I haven’t in a while….this sweet, unconditionally loving presence in my heart, that kind, still small voice in my spirit that says, “stop doing this to yourself Jen. I never asked you to do any of that stuff you think you have to do in order to be a “good Christian”. I never asked you to be something or someone you aren’t or to give something you don’t have. I just want you to be with me, let’s just be together right now, let me hold you. I’ve missed you and it’s completely ok because I know you missed me too and I know you are doing the best you can. It doesn’t have to be so hard. You don’t have to try, try, try. Just be still and know that I am God. Receive me. Let me hold you at night after the crazy day is done. Quit guilt-tripping yourself and comparing yourself to others. We don’t even have to spend the mornings together ok? You don’t have to read anything. What if you just lie down and let me give you peace at the end of the day? Let’s get back to spending time together.” My body, mind, and spirit finally calmed and accepted the peace He was offering me without hesitation, without asking me to repent or apologize for not doing a “good enough job”at being a Christian. He knows how I beat myself up for not being “good enough” in any way that I possibly can. He knows I just need to stop, to be held.

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So, that is what I will try harder to do. Nothing else. No other goals for this year. I will bring Jesus whatever I have in my heart and let him hold me. My time with Jesus doesn’t have to look like anyone else’s. I don’t have to have “quiet time” at 5am every morning. I think Jesus knows “morning person” is not in my DNA. It can be at midnight when I’m lying there unable to sleep. It can be in the car when I bite my lip because I’m twisted up with anxiety after checking the bank account and tallying up all my bills. It can be when I go in the bathroom at work for some peace because I can’t take all of the demands and sadness of the stories I hear as a counselor. It can be anytime. ANYTIME. It can involve reading my Bible or just being still and knowing Him.

Because, if I wait to spend time with Jesus until I feel like I can do it like a “good Christian” or I wait until I have large chunks of time to sit and sip coffee leisurely while reading my Bible and pondering a devotional for an hour somewhere with a beautiful view….then I will miss out on being held, in the here and now, in my real life, my messy life, my exhausting life, my life that isn’t picturesque most of the time. It is this life that I need Him in so badly. Real life. I don’t want to miss out on time with my best friend just because I can’t do it “like I should.”

It makes me think of my friend out in Texas. If I waited until she came back to Georgia and we could have a spa day together to spend time with her at all, we would likely grow very far apart. But, just by talking on the phone for 20 minutes here and there when we can and sharing our messy real lives, we have a great friendship. I know I can count on her support and she knows she can count on mine. I want to have a close friendship with Jesus too. I don’t just want to call him up when something catastrophic happens.

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I have to get back to the basics. 1) Love God 2) Love one another. There is no 3) Feel guilty for not serving within the church constantly. It really doesn’t have to be that complicated. Spend time loving God and love people. Loving people doesn’t even have to be so complicated. It doesn’t have to involve all kinds of volunteerism or going to a foreign country or serving at the church during this season of life where I have plenty of opportunities to love on the women and children survivors of abuse I work with, to model care and compassion for the mentally ill to my students, and to love on my own kids, husband, and extended family members. What if I just stop feeling guilty and focus on treating the people in my day to day life, the ones I’m CLEARLY called to love, with love and kindness? That can be challenging enough. What if everyone loved their families, clients/students, and co-workers well?

One day, in a different season of life, I will serve within the church more, I will have more to give, I might get to read my Bible for an hour or more sitting by the lake digging into each scripture. But, right here? Right now? Loving Jesus doesn’t have to be so complicated. I just need to be still and know Him. Right here. Right now.

 

Christmas Miracles

Every Christmas, I look for miracles. My dictionary reads: A miracle is an event not explicable by natural or scientific laws. Such an event may be attributed to a supernatural being, magic, a miracle worker, a saint or a religious leader. So what miracles would this year bring, I wondered? I have been  praying for miracles for an injured family member, an overwhelmed friend,  a little girl in my community who is fighting cancer and for Joey Feek, whose music and testimony has touched my heart deeply in a way I can’t logically explain. My sons and I have been donating to (because sometimes you have to help miracles along with love when you can) and praying for the refugee women and children who are in need of so much more than we have to give. This world really needs some miracles right about now, doesn’t it? 

So, I was praying for people who needed a miracle. I was keeping my eyes and heart open in gratitude to see the many miracles all around us that we all too often fail to see. But, in some ways, I just wasn’t feelin’ it this year. Ever had trouble just getting into the Christmas spirit? You try and try and just can’t quite get there? That was me this year. I had been feeling a little (ok a lot) burned out. Stressed out. Feeling stretched beyond my limits, but without any real options to change my situation or reduce my stress load anytime soon (believe me, I’ve rolled my options around in my head 1000 times, crunched numbers, and I’m just gonna have to hang in there as is unless an amazing new opportunity that doesn’t involve selling anything comes along). My headaches had started coming back. All of this was waaay before Christmas even rolled up…I was feeling like this in November. The past year had been filled with challenges at work, home, financially, everything breaking down all at once, health issues, etc.  So that’s where I was at emotionally in early November. Cringing as the stores brought out Christmas decorations and my go-to uplifting Christian radio station started playing “Jingle Bells”. Just exhausted, wanting to hop on the first plane to the Bahamas and run away from it all before Santa even flew in to take up residence at the mall. And then something interesting started happening….

Through a strange serious of events, I was called to help a young woman (not a client). More disadvantaged, alone, scared, and facing many more obstacles than any of my clients, she was someone I could not in good conscience decline to assist. But, if I’m honest with you, I have to admit that some of my first (selfish) thoughts were, “oh no, Lord why me? I don’t even know if I can be of much help or if this is just going to cause me more headaches and be the stress that pushes my sanity into a ditch. I know I’m supposed to be servant-hearted, but I’m dry bones, Lord have mercy I’m tired. And in December? Really?” But, I answered the call nonetheless. It was a situation I am uniquely qualified to help with for many different reasons due to my life experience and professional training. Saying yes, I will help, has resulted not in further burnout, but instead in my own Christmas blessing! God and those mysterious ways again…

My faith is expanding as I’m seeing God work in miraculous ways in this seemingly impossible situation. I’m doing my part to be love and practical help (within my means) to someone who needs lots of love and support right now. In doing so, my heart has been touched deeply, my faith expanded, and I have been re-energized about my calling and my life’s work as a counselor. So many things have come together in such a short period of time. God’s hand is undeniably all over it stirring sweet grace and mercy into the situation with the help of a network of believers as generously as Paula Deen stirs butter into her recipes with a spoon. The Body of Christ has come together so beautifully it is restoring my faith in my fellow Christians (many of us didn’t even really know each other well before this need arose and we don’t even come from the same church family). I wish I could tell you the details and tell you the full story, but I need to keep the details private. My part of it is just doing what I can and thanking God for this Christmas blessing of expanded faith and confirmation that I need to stop feeling guilty for not doing things that are not my callings and the gentle yet firm reminder to say yes to my callings even when they don’t make sense or appear at first glance to be too much. Lord, your yoke is easy and burden light (Matt. 11:30) because what you ask us to do, those things that are our true callings, end up blessing us back in return.

Speaking of miracles….at Christmas, I always meditate on Mary and what it must have been like for her. She was called to do something completely out of her comfort zone, something that initially jeopardized her upcoming marriage/life plan/stability, her safety, stretched her heart and soul, put her on a physically arduous journey to Bethlehem and upon her arrival (in active labor no less) was told there was no room at the inn. No room. No. The world couldn’t make room for her or this baby. Mary did what she was called to do in spite of all of this, even though it was hard and illogical. She was likely feeling exhausted and scared. What that moment must have been like between Mary and Joseph as this young couple struggled through labor and birth far from home in a stable with animal noises and smells. What would it have been like for Mary to be lying on hay, nursing baby Jesus and see the shepherds and the 3 wise men from the Far East converging upon them to gaze at their baby in wonder and awe, handing gifts of great value to this poor couple who no one could make room for just a few hours ago!? Wild. What a wild night. Mary bore a lot, but how blessed among women did she feel at the end of that night? Maybe she still felt confused and tired, but certainly she must have been more sure of her calling and her faith must have been expanded exponentially with baby Jesus lying in her arms and a star shining brightly above that stable.  

This is the true miracle of Christmas. The story that we can reflect upon in gratitude year after year with its rich symbolism and continued relevance, regardless of our circumstances. Regardless of if our prayers are answered as we wish they would be in our human understanding, the original Christmas miracle is one that we all too often overlook as we listen to the voice of the world that tells us the lie about “buying Christmas.”  I’ll take the original Christmas story over the modern consumerist story any day.

 

Some Advice for My Amazing Single Ladies

When someone gives you advice, you can either take it or leave it. Feel free to do either, you amazing single lady friends of mine. Here are just a few things I’ve learned from dating and from being a counselor. I see your heartbreak and frustration in your posts on social media. I often shake my head and hold back my advice (not in judgment, but because I’ve been there). My heart goes out to you. But, maybe you could benefit from me just telling it like I see it.

I’m 31 and married with 2 kids. I’ve “settled down.” However, before I got married, I did a good bit of “research” and figured out quite a few things about relationships and men.

My advice is as follows:

  1. Have a list of “oh hell no’s”. Meth/crack/heroin/porn/gambling addict? Chronically unemployed? Felon? Womanizer? Oh hell no, I don’t mess with you. I don’t care how nice and wonderful and what a good person you really are deep down, I don’t want that mess. Girl, you don’t have time for it. You don’t deserve it. You are not Jesus or Mother Theresa. You are just a girl trying to work her butt off, take care of her kids, be happy and keep her kids happy. You are not into making bad choices, so you don’t have time for some guy’s. You can’t “love him out of it” (but he can make you miserable in the process). Most people who are already that far down the road of hardcore drug addiction or legal problems don’t do a 180 change (yes, I know some do, but trust me I see the women they abuse, the children they neglect, and I would say 90% don’t do anything but leave destruction in their path like a tornado. Get out of the way of the tornado ladies!).
  2. Make a list of what you want from your ideal guy. It can be long or short. Include non-negotiables  (no legal problems, wants kids, whatever you must have in a guy) and things that would just be nice to have (loves water-skiing and cats). Look this list over often. Compare potential suitors to this list. If you are spiritual, pray for this guy, pray often for him to find you.
  3. Older guys. Go for the older guys (not just 2-3 years older either). You know, the guys who are stable and have already established themselves as non-drug addicts, have some sort of career or at least steady job, and take care of any kids they do have well. Maybe they even own a home. This isn’t to say you want their money or you are materialistic. It is just to say that you want someone who has proven they can “adult” well and not burden you with their financial irresponsibility, emotional immaturity, or whimsical behavior that takes them where ever the wind blows. Also, older guys are from a different generation, a better one. One that understood (for the most part) how to respect women, to treat her with kindness and manners. They know they have got a good thing going on when they have you, the beautiful, intelligent younger lady on their arm. They don’t take that for granted. And they don’t ask you for money.
  4. If he has a bunch of other ladies barking up his tree (you can usually notice this on social media), just step out of that line. Do you really want to be a contestant on “The Bachelor”? Find that nice guy who gets friend-zoned by everyone or that guy who isn’t constantly taking selfies with other girls and talk to him. To him, you will be a winning lottery ticket, not just another contestant in his show.
  5. Don’t date him if he has tattoos on his face and/or neck. I have no issue with tattoos. But, someone who gets “Young Money” or whatever tattooed on his eyebrows has given up on any kind of legit career or interaction with mainstream society. That guy is relegated to drug dealer or stolen goods merchandiser or….yeah that’s about it. Ain’t gonna happen.
  6. Go for the “boring” or “nerdy” guys. It doesn’t always mean they are boring or nerdy in romance or the bedroom. Give them a chance. Because they are going a whole lot farther in life and will treat you much better than the guy who thinks he’s a “gangsta.”That boring, normal, nerdy guy working at the bank or in IT at the county government wants to take you along on his next business trip to the beach. He wants to take you on a real date and give you good conversation over a dinner he pays for. Try it. It isn’t nearly as boring as being stood up or having to bail a guy out of jail.
  7. Repeat after me: It doesn’t matter how hot he is. Looks fade. A hot 20-year-old who posts pictures asking what piercing he should get next is so immature and is just in love with himself. Instead, focus on the guy who posts “I wonder what job offer I should take?”, “I wonder what I should buy my kids for Christmas?”, “What soup kitchen should I volunteer at?”  Let the self-obsessed guy go on loving himself and asking all the girls on the internet if he should get a lip ring or not. That guy is probably working at McDonald’s (and not as the manager) or still trying to be a “rapper.” That six-pack doesn’t mean much when he is asking you for money to buy a six-pack of beer.
  8. Love yourself, take care of yourself, don’t “settle” for guys you know deep down are just bad news or players because you _______ (are a single mom, aren’t a beauty queen, could lose a couple pounds, don’t have a great job, etc.)  There are so many reasons women settle for icky guys. Don’t do it. You are more amazing and beautiful than you give yourself credit for. Some nice, established older man will tell you so.
  9. Look for guys at places that are on the up and up. Don’t look for your next love on Tinder or on the internet in general. Don’t do bars and clubs unless you are looking for a one-night stand (no, girl you aren’t looking for that). Strike up an IRL conversation with that nice guy with no wedding ring who keeps smiling at you at the grocery store or the bookstore. Try a singles group that goes on adventures or hosts events. Try church groups. Ask a friend to set you up with a nice, mature friend who is also single. Make it known that you are looking for Mr. Right and anyone who spots him can send him your way. Go back to school and strike up a conversation with a fellow student.
  10. Don’t seem desperate or crazy. Desperation and codependency-fueled crazy is a huge turn-off for most decent men. Resist the urge to text him all day long. Send one text, maybe two per day. Hold back. Put the ball in his court. Don’t chase him. If he wants to go, let him go and thank him for moving on. There is this thing we learned about in counseling school called the “pursuer, avoider” dynamic. If you pursue someone like crazy, they usually avoid you. They run. If you avoid a little bit, hang back, act like its no biggie, act sane, then he will start to pursue you more. I’ve seen it work many times. A guy doesn’t work hard to get a woman who is already chasing him. He chases after that woman who is walking on with her bad self wherever she pleases taking care of her business and creating her own happiness. Guys are drawn to her like flies to honey.

See also: Madea’s Advice: Let em’ go

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11. And last, but certainly not least….If you do introduce your suitors to your kids, just introduce them as “Mommy’s friend” and never let them see you show physical or verbal romantic affection. To many kids, “Mommy’s boyfriend” = “Finally, I have a Daddy who loves me” and when that relationship dissolves, it just another loss for a child who has already been let down too much. Better yet, don’t introduce your kids to your new guy until you are engaged. Kids don’t deserve guys popping in and out of their lives. It really messes them up.

I wish you all love and happiness. I know its hard and confusing to be a single lady navigating the minefield of not-so-great guys to find that one diamond. Don’t settle for a lump of coal.

No Daily Meds?! My Family’s Holistic Health and Special Needs Journey

Thanks to my husband’s passion for gardening, I’ve started playing in the dirt again myself. The first lesson I learned is that gardening is really a metaphor for all life. If a plant is in unsuitable soil, it won’t thrive. If a plant’s roots aren’t doing well, it won’t produce healthy leaves or anything edible. Also, every plant species is unique. Some can thrive in pretty crappy soil and extreme temperatures, while others are more delicate and die off unless they are in lovely, nutrient rich soil and kept at certain temperatures. It is important to figure out what the root issues are when you have a plant that isn’t thriving. Get the soil tested, look for bugs, fungus and the like, supplement the soil if it is depleted, make row covers or hoop houses to protect from extreme temperatures, etc. With plants, we don’t just slap a band-aid and some Miracle-Grow on the withered leaves and call it good enough, we figure out what is really going on or call that plant a total loss.

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Why then do we treat our bodies and the bodies of our children worse than we do our plants? In our society when we have a physical or mental health crisis, we just go to the doctor who gives us a few medications or offers to cut us open and we change nothing else because this is our paradigm and we don’t know what else to do. It has even gotten to the point that doctors are flabbergasted when I tell them my son isn’t on any medications for his autism. “But he is doing so well….” and then they ask if I want meds (bangs head on desk, you just said how well he is doing, no I don’t want any free samples thanks). Doctors don’t typically ask about our “soil” or the environment we are in. When was the last time your doctor asked you if you hated your job or if your husband was abusing you or how your daily nutrition/exercise regimen was going? We are just given pills (sometimes pills we don’t need or pills that have worse side effects than the issues we had) and we go on as usual. Ain’t nobody really got time for real health in managed care. But, if we really want to be healthy, we might have to look at our environment, our lifestyle, our habits, our nutrition, our priorities, and realize that just because something is covered by insurance doesn’t necessarily mean its a long-term health bargain.  While modern medicine certainly has its place, particularly in treating congenital malformations and acute health crises (infections and traumatic injuries), chronic illness tends to be better served by figuring out what is at the root of it. Perhaps it is something that can be helped by surgery or medication, but what if there was another way to treat and truly heal many common chronic conditions? What if there was a way to heal and improve conditions that doctors just don’t know the cause of or how to heal?Holistic_health

 

cureproblemThis is my experience of trying that other way, a more holistic way. How in the world did I stumble upon all of this? I got started down the holistic health journey when I took the first job I could find to get out of a really bad work environment which was causing me anxiety and depression. The first job I found happened to be as a receptionist at a local naturopath’s office inside a healing arts spa where I was introduced to all sorts of funky and amazing things that I had never experienced before such as essential oils, probiotics, drinking lots of water with mineral drops and fruit in it, massage, detoxification, nutrition, naturopathy, yoga, and so much more. Not only did my anxiety and depression go away within a week or so of leaving the toxic work environment and coming into this positive environment, it just so happened that a few months after I started this job, my oldest son was diagnosed with autism spectrum disorder. He wasn’t talking at 3 years old…at all. He was having intense behavioral problems that broke my heart daily. He had to go to a special needs school because typical daycares couldn’t handle his behavior. I was told there was nothing to do but put him in therapies like speech therapy, occupational therapy and physical therapy and try medications to control his behavior. I was told my son probably wouldn’t ever talk and would become even harder to handle as he got bigger and stronger. I was terrified and so sad it was physically painful.

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Never underestimate the research abilities of a special needs mama on a mission to help her child feel better and thrive!

We did the therapies, I prayed so much. I just couldn’t put my baby on powerful psych meds.  I don’t judge you if that is the route you chose to go, but personally it is unacceptable to me to put my 3-year-old son on powerful, psychotropic medications (with all of their side effects and serious warnings) which are not approved by the FDA or the American Academy of Pediatrics for use in children under the age of 6. Research (much less longitudinal studies) on the use of psychotropic medications in preschool age children is seriously lacking. What if these drugs made my poor baby’s brain worse? What if his sleep and eating got worse? Sure, psychiatrists and even some pediatricians use these drugs on young children “off label” saying the benefits outweigh the risks in some cases, but I say that we parents have no idea what the real risks even are without adequate peer-reviewed research and longitudinal studies to determine if these medications actually have positive long-term outcomes or if they cause long-term health problems, brain damage, or even addiction.

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No thanks, Doc.

So that said, in my desperation as a mother, I decided to have the naturopath test my son for nutritional deficiencies, heavy metals, etc. and give me gentle nutritional remedies for my son’s sleep issues, stomach issues, and agitation. My son ended up testing for a B vitamin and magnesium deficiency. We also added cod liver oil (rich in brain-building, focus increasing omega-3 fatty acids), probiotics and bovine colostrum (for healing gut issues) to his daily protocol. Our whole family started taking Juice Plus+ gummies (which are a blend of the juice and pulp from 17 fruits and veggies) because he was such a picky eater at that time. I started giving him nightly massages with lavender infused olive oil and giving him plenty of time in the bath to relax his hyperactive sensory system. We did horse-assisted OT and ST. He had PT and went 3 days per week to the early-intervention preschool program. We learned about the Son-rise program (check it out on Youtube for free). We kept him on a balanced routine of peer interaction and time to rest at home. We love him and try our best to treat him with kindness and respect.

The results were nothing short of MIRACULOUS! He started talking, he started sleeping better, his stomach issues went away, he started eating more foods, his meltdowns decreased dramatically, and now at age 10 he is still psych med free and is THRIVING. He is communicating and reading on or above age level. He hasn’t had a single meltdown in years. His personality is funny, empathetic, and kind. He actually has fewer behavioral problems than most typical children. He sleeps from 9pm-6am every night. He talks non-stop and is currently going on and on about GhostBusters and the Brutus the Dog show he wants to make when he grows up. He went from severe, non-verbal autism that prevented us from going out to eat, to church, to the movies, etc. as a family to just a quirky, happy little guy who loves to go out and about anywhere our family decides to go. Sure, he still flaps his hands and jumps a lot when he is excited about something. He still needs a stable, predictable daily routine. However, his quality of life has so dramatically improved that I no longer feel any sadness or worry about his future. I no longer suffer from extreme sleep deprivation and exhaustion. I know he will be ok and finally I am ok.

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What is more, my youngest son started developing “tics” such as rapid eye blinking, throat clearing, shoulder shrugging, etc. after a bout of strep throat last year. The tics kept getting worse. I took him to our naturopath and he suggested magnesium cream to calm the nervous system, probiotics, and immune-boosting herbs in case there was a lingering sub-clinical viral or bacterial infection. My son’s symptoms improved, but lingered. Then, because I had so much success with acupuncture curing my migraines and anxiety, I took him to have acupuncture done. He has been “tic-free” ever since that session months ago!

My own health has dramatically improved ever since I started to understand that in order to experience real health, you must look for and treat the root causes of imbalances and health problems. It all started with getting out of the “bad soil”, the bad environment of a hostile and abusive work environment. What if I had just stayed there and popped some depression and anxiety pills to keep on truckin’? I wouldn’t be the happy, healthy person I am today. My kids wouldn’t have had a mother who could help them improve their own health. I think of people who are stuck in bad marriages, bad jobs, or self-sabotaging habits and thought patterns and my heart breaks because no amount of pills will be a true cure until they find a way out of toxic soil. You know the saying that before you diagnose yourself with depression, make sure you aren’t just surrounded by a-holes? It’s true. Creating a positive, healthy environment at work, home, etc. is a great starting goal when working towards physical and mental health.  It’s ok to take a chance on making a change. Even though it was scary, I will always be thankful that I took the first job I could find in order to get out of a bad environment. I am also thankful that I didn’t just accept having chronic migraines and trigeminal neuralgia and accept all of the pain medications the MDs wanted to give me. I tried acupuncture and Traditional Chinese herbs and have not had a migraine or nerve pain in 4 years now! I take no meds daily either.

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I thank God for our family’s good health and for leading me to stumble upon this passion for holistic health that doesn’t just pop pills to cover the symptoms but finds the root cause, treats it with nutrition, herbs, acupuncture, exercise, yoga, avoiding toxic chemicals such as MSG, lab-made dyes, and toxic beauty and cleaning products.

I am often told that holistic health is “just too expensive” or “out of my price range” and to that I can only respond with my personal experience. I have never been rich, a kept woman, and I’ve never even had more than a thousand dollars in the bank at one time. I made about $1200 per month when I first started on this journey and would use one of my paychecks per month on the supplements and treatments my children and myself needed. I have found ways to prioritize the things I need for my health and my children’s health by cutting costs elsewhere. No, we don’t need a new game, gadget, clothes, beer or to go out to a movie. I do need to buy $50 of magnesium, cod liver oil, B vitamins, probiotics, and some lavender oil this month for my sons. I will also spend $50 on our family of four’s Juice Plus+ monthly order. So, $100 per month on supplements. Not free, but do-able if I prioritize. Sure, I could pay $0 for some psych meds for my son thanks to insurance, but that may not be a bargain if they are just zombifying him temporarily and stunting the growth of his brain and body long-term, creating more problems that I will eventually have to face with his behavior and health. Even though it means working some extra hours while my kids are in public school and only shopping at thrift stores, I will find a way.

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Of course, this is not to discount the struggles of people who are literally struggling to keep a roof over your heads and food in your mouths. Even if you are in that tough situation, there are things you can do in the short-term (as you are trying to improve your financial situation long-term) to increase health such as applying for SSI so that you have the money to buy some supplements, using free resources online or at the local library to learn about natural healing methods (check out anything by Dr. Andrew Weil), using food stamps and WIC to buy canned and frozen veggies and fruits to get some extra nutrition into yourself and your kids and taking everyone to the park for some exercise on a daily basis (especially those ADHD kiddos who need 3 times the amount of physical exercise than typical children). Many of us are perfectly able to find creative ways to cut back on buying things we don’t really need, find ways to generate a little extra income, and using free resources to get our kids active and healthy.

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Even if you are on a tight budget, exercising in nature is one step in the direction of holistic health!

 

I don’t write this post up on a high-horse or to judge anyone. I write it as a summary of our journey towards health and healing in case anyone else out there is wondering how to get started or if it is ok to try things other than meds for your 3-year-old on the autism spectrum. Nowadays, it is almost a rebellious act to choose natural healing as the first thing to try over just jumping into medications. I want other parents to know there are success stories, even if your medical doctor isn’t aware of them or won’t tell you about them because they are “only anecdotal”. I want you to know that I am still human and struggle to make healthy choices and sometimes I just throw caution to the wind and eat whatever sounds good. My youngest son is a little chubby even though we don’t keep unhealthy foods at home (thanks Grandma). My immune system is much stronger now than it has ever been, but I actually got such a bad case of strep throat last year (thanks to a lack of rest, the stress of my van breaking down with thousands of dollars in repairs needed, and sucking at self-care for about a month) that I had to have an antibiotic shot in the butt due to strep-induced inflammation causing heart palpitations. I was thankful for modern medicine on that day. But, I learned that I have to stop skimping on sleep, stop working myself into a frenzy stressing about money, and do better with self-care in general.

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It is an ongoing process choosing to move towards getting healthier each day. My hope is that we all can change the paradigm from one of thinking meds or surgery are the only options for mental and physical illnesses to a paradigm of making habits that promote health and wellness the top priority day to day and becoming aware of the host of holistic options that are available to us when we are in need of healing. Be informed. Be well. Treat the roots that the branches may blossom. May we all thrive as we wing it together towards a healthier body, mind, and spirit.

 

 

Spring Magic…Coming Back to Life

As the brisk, fresh air swept over my bare shoulders and arms I closed my eyes and sighed “Spring, oh thank you for inviting me to come back to life every year.” Lush greenery, pink and white blossoms, and tiny purple flowers spring up seemingly overnight. I walked outside my front door yesterday and there was my invitation. If these leafless trees with limbs missing from the ice storm and bare dirt under my feet can spring back to life overnight, so could I.

Winter is not just a season for me, it is a state of being. I try my best to appreciate all seasons, but Winter is difficult. When my loved ones have passed on, it has always been in Winter. I do not prefer cold weather or cold people. I do not prefer having to wear clothes, much less lots of layers just to survive. During Winter, the somber landscape induces a melancholy of my spirit.

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So when Spring comes bursting forth, my heart, my mind, my spirit, my body feel enlivened with a magic that reminds me “Winter is just a season to endure, it always ends.” While Winter is all about endurance in my experience, Spring is about awakening with joy. How it delights me that my children and I can spend not a cent and have a magical day just running gleefully around our property, my oldest son picking plants he finds interesting and pretending he is making some sort of magical soup, my youngest finding sticks he makes into spears and running into the woods as if he is going hunting. My shaman and my warrior. I have known this from their births. I am in awe that my body produced these beings. They both came in the Spring. Life comes in Spring. Perhaps that is why I savor Spring fever so deeply.

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I remember spending so much time in the Spring forest as a child. I first felt God there and I marvel at the divinity God has instilled in all of creation. My heart aches for the children who grow up in concrete jungles. When I was a girl and I was sad or uncertain, I would go into the woods and sit next to the largest, oldest tree I could find and pray. I still do this. To all of the people who feel alone or hopeless, I say “go, let an old tree hold you and listen with your heart, think of all this tree has endured over the past hundreds of years, can you not stand and endure until this Winter of the soul until it passes?”

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The deadness and harshness of Winter is giving way to the magical life of Spring. Whatever has been dead or dormant in you, Spring is your invitation to let the ice melt off and the little purple flowers grow again. All it takes is getting outside, taking off your shoes, feeling the Earth beneath your feet, the flowers ticking your toes, and feeling the delicious air wrap around your shoulders like a long-lost lover. Listen…the birds are chirping. Their wings have brought them back home. Let’s wing it together as we welcome this new season and awaken. How do you celebrate Spring? What does Spring mean to you?

Showing up…even when you feel a hot mess and inadequate… is 99% of the battle…

One thing I have learned in my 30 years is that, most of the time, it is a good idea to just show up anyway even when you feel like a mess or like you don’t know what you are doing. It isn’t realistic to avoid starting a new job due to fears of inadequacy or to tell your boss “I’m taking a personal day” once a week because the waves of life are getting rough and you feel stressed out, hurt, or angry.  Don’t feel like something is wrong with you and you can’t go into work or to yoga class or to the park with your kids because you are a hot mess. Show up with your hot mess, authentic self anyway.  You will feel better. Avoidance and isolation because you are afraid to show everyone your mess only leads to the downward spiral of isolation and depression. Kind of like how some people feel like they have to lose weight before joining a gym. NO. That’s what it is there for. Get out there. Connect with someone. Anyone. Join that gym. Go to work. Don’t turn down that invitation to join your friend at church. Go walk at the park. Can I tell you a secret? Most women I have talked to are about one more thing away from crying or becoming an episode of “snapped” most of the time. We think “they” have it all together, but they don’t. We women juggle so much, care so much, love so deeply. We get hurt. We feel inadequate or scared. It’s ok. Just show up anyway.

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I talked to a stranger at the park about her horrible divorce yesterday. The conversation started with her commenting that I was almost inspiring her to get up off the park bench and run circles around the playscape like I was doing. I told her I was only doing this because I comfort ate a pint of Ben and Jerry’s the night before and I’m feeling like crap about it now. You never know. Sometimes if you are honest, someone else will be honest and then you realize that the lady you thought was a Stepford Wife is actually going through an awful season of life and needs support. You are not some weird crazy person who is a failure because you have issues and sadness. You are doing the best you can. Just like all of us. Some people claim to have unlocked the mysteries of the universe and they can “manifest” only rainbows and sunshine but while I do believe in the power of positive thinking, prayer, being mindful and intentional, I take issue with the theory that all you have to do is learn to “manifest goodness” and nothing bad will ever happen in your life ever again. Seriously, I have a ton of positivity and spirituality going on, but I still have my days. I still had to earn my degrees. That 160 page Master’s thesis didn’t just manifest itself. That’s life. It has ups, it has downs. It has seasons, it involves change. It requires work. Change and work isn’t always fun. I hate it when I’ve had an awful day and I feel like a stressed out, emotional wreck on the verge of busting out in tears or having a panic attack at any moment and I have to go into work and be all “calm counselor” or attend an IEP meeting for my son with 5 professionals staring at me talking to me about my son’s behavior challenges. I can’t just “manifest” my way out of those things. I can, however, just show up with my authentic self, put in the work, and do the best I can.

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I feel things deeply, but I know that I have to reign in my intense emotions if I want to do things that matter a lot to me like living in my own home in a safe part of town, feeding myself and my kids, clothing myself and my kids, staying married to the man I love but sometimes don’t like, and just in general living a sustainable and stable lifestyle. That is not to say one should suppress or repress emotions, we MUST have a time and a place to completely release. I have learned that can be crying in the car on the way home listening to country music or in yoga class before work (its ok to cry in yoga class, I checked) or sitting outside and writing in my journal on my lunch break. I don’t have to call out of work or stay in bed all day and comfort eat. That crap just makes you feel worse.

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I love how author Lysa TerKeurst says “feelings should be indicators, not dictators” meaning that our feelings are giving us valuable knowledge about the state of our hearts, but we don’t have to react immediately and self-sabotage just because we feel really sad, hurt, or angry. We don’t have to call out of work and end up losing our job or bail on girls’ night out because we aren’t sunshine and rainbows. We don’t have to go to the courthouse and get divorce papers just because our spouse is really, really pissing us off right now. We can tune into the information our feelings give us, but choose to delay reacting until we can react in a way that doesn’t destroy what we work so hard to create in life. Are we working for or against what we truly want and need? The long-term patterns determine the long-term outcome.

My first experience with just showing up was when I was 16. I was so scared to show up to my first day of work. I almost no-showed. But, my grandma had used her connections to get me the job, so if I didn’t show up it would certainly get back to her and to my parents. So I just showed up. All pimply, skinny, scared, untrained, young and wearing very unprofessional clothes. But, it was OK. It was fine. I SURVIVED. I LEARNED. I even LAUGHED a few times that day. They didn’t fire me due to incompetence! I learned that I can figure out a cash register and deal with difficult customers by just trying to understand their frustration and acting like I cared. I learned that a smile and kind voice go a LONG way. I learned that sticky notes and to-do lists are my best friend. As time went on, I realized that showing up meant money, MY money and no one could tell me what to do with it. Missing a day meant missing MY money and MY freedom of choice. I went in even on days when I had fought with my high school boyfriend or had a hangover. I went into work 3 days after my best friend suddenly died. I learned that work actually helps. It forces me to get my shit together mentally enough to function. I learned that having to smile and act happy sometimes made me actually feel happy by the end of the day because someone would be nice to me or I would observe something that would remind me that life is still a gift no matter how much BS is a part of it.

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Looking back, each season of my life has given me PLENTY of reasons/excuses not to show up at all or to quit. But also many reasons why I HAD to show up. Not just at work, but in my marriage, in my friendships, as a parent, etc. Stressful life circumstances and grief/loss could have been my reasons to just throw in the towel and accept my misery so many times, but instead they catalyzed me. I could have refused to show up and try when I was a massively overwhelmed, broke 22-year-old with an underemployed boyfriend, a newborn and a 2-year-old who was newly diagnosed with autism. There were endless therapy appointments and paperwork. We couldn’t pay our bills. I got by with one pair of shoes until they wore out. There were months when I didn’t know how we would pay rent and I had to contemplate really bad options. I skipped meals to save money. Ultimately, I realized I had a choice. There was so much worry. I didn’t even have my faith to lean on during that time because I was so spiritually empty, stubborn, rebellious, and lost. I hadn’t yet learned that I don’t have to bear my burden alone just on my aching shoulders. I hadn’t yet had my desperate prayer on the bathroom floor “come to Jesus” moment yet. But, I did know that I had a choice, I could do what needed to be done. I knew the rent wasn’t going to pay itself and it would be a cold day in hell before I was going to move in with family and all of the headaches and dysfunction that would entail.

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Over the years, I have worked as a waitress in a smoky bar until 2am with men sexually harassing me, I have worked as a preschool teacher caring for twenty 2-year-olds all day and doing the hours of cleaning at the end of the day just to do it all again the next day for $8/hr…and going home to my own 2-year-old who didn’t let me rest either. I worked a physically demanding job running up and down flights of stairs carrying baskets full of laundry, walking around helping clients, and standing on my feet all day during my pregnancy with my youngest son until one week before he was born. I would go home having contractions and wondering if my son would be born premature because I had to push myself so hard. Thankfully, my body didn’t let me down and he was born at 37 weeks strong and healthy into my hands at home without pain medication or a bunch of unnecessary interventions. I didn’t fear or fight the pain of labor. I knew it would end eventually and it wouldn’t kill me. My big, strong boy showed up, opened his eyes and looked into mine. Worth it. Every bit of it.

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My boys, my motivation

I once worked a job driving around po-dunk providing early intervention special education services in-home for at-risk children, sometimes being told to “get the f#$% off my property you DFCS b#$$%” and threatened to be shot. I somehow was able to not run for my life, but rather explain to these people that I was not DFCS and was only there to teach their special needs child colors, letters, and numbers. I actually ended up getting along well with that family. I worked myself to the bone all through graduate school while also caring for my young children because there was no other option. Well, there were options. I could have left my kids with my mama or my man and run off to live with some guy or I could have just tried to be ok with a diet that only consisted of ramen noodles for my kids. But those options are unacceptable to me. They were traps, illusions that short-term pain and sacrifice was harder than long-term bad choices and the long-term consequences and pain they bring. I’ll take short-term suffering to create the life I want to live over that any day.

“No one ever said life would be easy or fair” I remember hearing several relatives say over the course of my life. Why would I expect it to be? I am strong. I am smart. I don’t need easy-peasy puddin’ pie. Anything worth having is worth working for. I hope if anyone gets an easy life, its people who are truly so weak or unable they need easy. I’m perfectly capable of showing up and doing what needs to be done even if I feel like I’m falling apart sometimes.

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I remember when one of the best friends and mentors I have ever had was dying of cancer. It was a situation where I could have walked away with all of our good times and just let his daughter care for him by herself. She asked me “are you in this for the long haul, until the end? Because if not, just say your goodbyes and leave now before it gets really rough.” I felt like I could barely breathe. My heart physically hurt and I shook when I cried as I said, “I’m in…until the end.” I rarely missed a day coming to see him and care for him for at least a few hours. I only missed one day of work during this whole time and that was because he needed me. He could have been my excuse for quitting work and letting myself completely fall apart. But the fact remained that my kids needed to be sheltered, clothed, fed, and cared for. I’m in it for the long haul when it comes to them. Nothing has ever or will ever motivate me like my kids. I kept my job. There were many days when I would hold it together all day long at work counseling women and children, only to fall completely apart listening to music on my drive home. There were days when I would lay my head on my steering wheel in my driveway and just shake crying so hard I could barely force air into my lungs.

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Working and taking care of my children was what kept me from being a wreck 24/7 while mourning my friend’s passing. At work, I HAVE to find my strength, muster my resources, and get it together. At home with my children, I have to tune into them and out of my pain and be present. I find joy in those moments with my kids or at work helping people. I didn’t have to do this, I suppose. Plenty of people just give up and stay in bed, drink or drug themselves to death slowly or quickly, or neglect their kids. But, it doesn’t make sense to me to take the easy way out in the short-term only to reap more pain in the long-term or worse to redistribute that pain onto others. Life is hard, but we can do hard things. We can find strength when we don’t already have it in things like showing up to do our life’s work whether that is being a stay-at-home mama or a CEO or just extending love and care to those who cross our paths, being honest, reaching out for help when we need it, and helping someone who is even worse off than we are.

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The most courageous thing I can do is just show up anyway no matter how crappy I feel. Just put on my big girl panties even though I feel about 4-years-old in the moment and go into work, take the kids to the park, read bedtime stories, and then at the end of the day cry in a bubble bath listening to that song that just touches something deep in my heart. I pray the most in the shower and in the car. I pray God will keep giving me strength to just keep showing up no matter how scared or inadequate I often feel. God hasn’t let me down yet. I’ll keep doing my best and let God do the rest. That’s all anyone can do.

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Don’t feel like you are not good enough to show up. You are. You are as good as anyone else. No one is perfect. We are all just winging it. Winging it alone is hard, if not impossible. So just show up where you need to be today and let’s wing it together. 

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Can you think of times in your life when you just showed up even though you were scared or felt inadequate? How did it go? Did you learn anything about yourself?